


Lesson Learned

by missoktober



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/F, Hypnosis, Mind Manipulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, mild mommy kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missoktober/pseuds/missoktober
Summary: Missy won't let you go. Even if it breaks you.
Relationships: Missy (Doctor Who)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	1. The Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this.

Each swirl of the silver teaspoon in Missy’s delicate porcelain cup set your every nerve ablaze, making the constant fight to stay still and to not bring up your failed attempt at getting her to take you home.

Your lost attempt at escape. 

She knew, she had to know. You had slipped, it had been so easy. A gentle prod at the wrong time, a small slip, and those ice eyes pierced through your words. 

“There’s supposed to be a lot of snow back home this Christmas. Maybe we could go?” Horrible hope has risen in your heart “Maybe stay for a bit.” 

Stay. 

Missy had gone stock-still after that, the light leaving her eyes to be replaced with something dark, something cold, something treacherous. 

Another swirl of the spoon broke your thoughts, forcing your head up from the book you had been faking to read to look at her.

In the honeyed light of the Tardis you could almost make out a smile on her thin lips as she drank.

Before she lowered the cup you turned the page and made yourself look bored with her, ready to read and keep up the charade of near domestic bliss.

The spoon drug again against the teacup, a tone caught between shrill and musical that slipped through your mind like a knife. 

The thoughts you had tried to keep in the very back of your mind sprang forward. She was going to get you killed, she was going to kill you herself. 

You had seen the rapturous joy when she destroyed civilizations, when everything went precisely wrong and she couldn’t save anyone.

The way she laughed when you dropped to your knees and cried whenever she had held you right and made you watch too long, too long to do anything to stop the horror, too long to forget it. 

The spoon made another lazy drag, drowning out the hum of the tardis as you passed through time and space, drowning out the constant warning in your mind to keep your mouth shut.

“Enjoying your book,” she asked too fast, too excited.

Without thinking, you replied, “I’m not even reading it.” 

Horror filled you, making you worry your lip between your lips. Why? Why had you said that? 

“Oh,” Missy gave an exaggerated pout and swirled against the cup again, “and why is that poppet?”

“Thinking-“ you bit your lip, hard, biting back the rest of the words. Thinking about leaving you.

Missy stood, heels clicking against the floor as she walked around the room, giving your chair a wide birth. You couldn’t see her face when the sound of the spoon penetrated the air again. How could it be so loud when she was further from you now?

“You have been doing a lot of thinking lately haven’t you?” She hummed.

Your mouth opened, ready to give her the answer against your will.

“Don’t answer that” laugher played deep in her voice, a controlled manic tone only she could master, as she swirled the teacup again. 

In an instant, your mouth slammed shut causing you to Yelp as you bit your tongue. Filling your mouth with the tang of blood. 

What was wrong with you? 

As if she could smell the blood in your mouth she turned, a shark in the water, stalking closer as she drug the spoon along the rim of the cup, slower, louder than before. 

If hurt as the sound filled your mind. 

“Does that hurt?” Honey dripped from her words, that lure of softness, the sticky trap.

You began to nod, yes yes it hurt, not just physically but somewhere deep, it hurt in the part of your heart that knew fear. Quickly you tried to stop yourself to keep from giving her the answer she wanted. 

Her eyes went alight with dangerous amusement and she laid the edge of the spoon along the inside of the cup again, harder, slower, as she spoke the words “Ah ah ah I asked you a question.” She stepped closer each step driving home the words “Does. That. Hurt.”

“Yes!” The words tore out of you with a sob, “everything hurts!” 

Her smile is victorious, the smile she wore when people cried for her help and she gave them none.

“Is that why you want to leave me?” 

You have become accustomed to the feeling of time stopping, the halt in your gut when the tardis lands, the momentary hangover as you take off from a near-death experience. 

As your tears hit the floor the same sensation floods you. 

Your mind screams to apologize, beg, run. Yet, all you can manage is to stare at the chipped nail polish on your toes, matching to the red on Missy’s perfect nails. You can feel her staring, a smile splitting her face, and in your mind, it’s too wide, teeth too sharp, gums too red. 

“Come on now, Poppet,” She whispers softly, kneeling beside you to tip your chin to meet her eyes with the cold silver spoon, “Did you really think you could keep a secret from little old me? You could have just told me and this would have been so much easier for you.”

You had expected anger, but her eyes are kind, soft as she tracks the tears dripping from the curves of your face.

“I should have told you.” You agree tension releasing from your shoulders.

Softly she nods, moving the spoon the whack you on the forehead.

“Hey!” you laugh, allowing a smile to grow, allowing your heart to slow its pounding. 

But when she stands again swirling her spoon against the cup all kindness dies in her eyes. “Come on then, on your knees.”

Without hesitation your body obeys, leaving your mind in its blissful hope behind in the chair, dazed. 

“Mis-”

“Now dear, I didn’t say to speak.” she tuts swirling the spoon, a white-knuckled grip on the small piece of silver.

Your mouth holds closed as she watches you tremble on the floor, knowing the look on her face all too well, the look that says she’s going to enjoy watching you suffer. Your mouth won’t open, your body will not move as she walks with a small skip in her step to a drawer. She dances side to side as she rifles through the drawer until she finds what she’s looking for. Turning on her heel with an iron hammer. She offers a small smile as she shifts its weight offering you the handle. 

“Take it,” she commands, and so you do.

For a moment you wonder if she’s going to make you run, to fight for your freedom but then she swirls the spoon again hard enough to nearly crack the porcelain. 

“Break your knee.”

“What?!” the word rips from your throat.

“I said, break your knee,” the joy in her voice is what scares you the most, the fact that she is going to enjoy every moment of your suffering. 

You watch in horror as your hand lifts against your will, angling to swing as she swirls the spoon against the teacup hard enough to shatter. 

As it shatters, so do you.

The pain is blinding as the hammer slips from your hand, you can not scream, can not move as you fall forward into the remnants of the shattered porcelain cup. Between her hold on your mind and the pain you lay, limp as the tears come. 

“Oh now dear, look at the mess you made,” laughter cuts through her words as you watch her boots step closer “It’s alright, why don’t you take a nap while Mummy cleans this up.”

You watch as she lifts her boot, thinking to roll away too late before the pain and darkness take you.


	2. The Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missy has a surprise for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3

When you wake it's to a shuddering pain in your knee, a tap, then a prod and when you groan and try to move away it’s an unbearable pressure holding your shattered knee to the floor.

A gasp tears from your tired lungs pushing you forward, trying to sit up but another pressure is placed on your chest holding you down by the sternum with near-breaking brutality. 

“Oh, you’re awake, finally” Missy slowly comes into focus above you, leaning on what you can now see are crutches she’s pinning you down with, “I thought I was going to have to start breaking things to get you to wake up.”

“Feels like you already started trying,” you wince feebling trying to lift the crutch off your sternum so you can get to the one pressing on the already searing pain of your knee. 

“Not hard enough,” she pouts, watching with amusement as you paw at the length of metal keeping you down “Do you want to see your surprise?” 

You stop trying to move, swallowing the terror rising like bile in your throat to speak “S-Sure.”

She removes the crutch from your chest and knee tossing them down onto you. “Then come along Poppet, time for your walk.” 

You watch as she begins a manic dance around the tardis console and you realize she had to have carried you here. 

Taking slow deliberate movements you check yourself, a new blooming bruise at your chest, a stinging at the side of your face where you landed on the teacup. When you touch your face you find small butterfly bandages holding the wounds closed and shoot you to check your knee. Wrapped around the majority of your leg is a soft white wrap, not a proper cast but it’s something. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, tears welling in your eyes.

“For what?” There is laughter in her voice when she speaks. She knows what for but you have to say it. Say something nice for her.

“Thank you for patching me up,” you don’t have the force the smile you give her, you didn’t expect her to patch you up and she did.

“Couldn’t leave you totally useless now could I,” She strolls over offering you a hand, as you take it she yanks you up hard enough to nearly pop your shoulder out of place and you stumble into her. 

Her arms wind around you and you screw your eyes shut as her lips press to your cheek, her tongue dragging there for a moment until you realize what she’s doing.

Tasting your tears.

“I can’t let you break completely on me,” she plants a small peck on your nose and let’s go, “I’m not through playing with you yet.” 

Her words offer only superficial comfort as you tentatively try to walk with the crutches, moving far slower than her as she dances to the Tardis doors.

When she throws them open all you see is white. It takes a few moments for your mind to catch up with what you see. She took you to the snow. She took you home.

“Missy-“ a sob catches in your throat and you hobble faster trying to keep up with her as she walks out of the tardis and into the blinding light. 

The chill hits you like a wall as you step outside the tardis and you breath deep, relishing in the frost fresh air. 

Your eyes close and your face tilts upwards in the late afternoon sun, basking in its warmth. 

“Well, when you’re finished-“ you can hear the roll of Missy’s eyes without having to look at her.

“Thank you.” You whisper with total sincerity, beaming at her until her laughter fills the air.

“Don’t thank me yet.” 

It’s then that you take a moment to look around, suspicion curling in your chest like a snake.

The white around you clear and you can see stones littered amongst the whiteness. 

Graves.

“Wh- what are we doing in a graveyard?” You try to push forward on your crutches but the snow makes it so much harder to walk. 

“Well-“ she twirls landing to rest her elbows on a tombstone in front of her, “I said I had a surprise.”

Confusion knits your brows together and you watch as her smile splits her face and she nods down at the stone she’s resting on.

The stone bearing your name.

You stare for so long that she groans, shifting off the stone to wrap an arm around your shoulder.

“Come now poppet, don’t be boring.” She hums into the shell of your ear, lips grazing as she speaks “Ask me how I did it.”

“How did you do it,” you ask back voice barely a breath.

“Atta girl!” She claps her hands together and moves to bounce in front of you.

“Well, it was deliciously simple. See while you were out after our little row I decided I was ever so cross with you for wanting to leave and I thought ‘I could just kill her’” her hand is gripping your chin then forcing you to meet her eyes.

“So I did. Kill you.” She pauses booping your nose as she skips back to the gravestone to brush the snow off the top “or well a clone at least. Got very good at making those during a little mining excursion a while back.” 

For a moment she pauses, pouting, looking wistfully at the grave “She didn’t scream like you though, close enough, I guess. Call me old-fashioned but I prefer the original.” She offers you a wink and continues “So I took that poor little broken thing and dropped it off here. Didn’t take long for them to find you, I left you on display after all. Now there’s an investigation but it’s going to go cold very quickly I’m afraid.” 

It feels as if the floor has been ripped from under you as you stare past her shoulder into the distant white. There are no words for the hollow hole in your heart. Slowly you put together all the pieces. 

Everyone you have ever know, everyone you have ever loved, has buried your corpse.

For a moment you try to find a way to reconcile, turn up at their doors, but from the look of the stone it’s been some time. You would only hurt them, confuse them, break them.

Despair swallows you hole leaving nothing but rage behind.

“Ah, there’s my girl.” Her voice is victorious as she strides towards you, boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow “A little slow on the uptake but I think you’re getting it.”

She places a tender kiss on your lips, “There’s no home to go back to,” another kiss more insistent “No home but me.”

Her hand curls in your hair forcing you to meet her kiss, devouring and sharp. 

For a moment you nearly lose yourself in it allowing whatever comfort she gives you but your blood is in her mouth, on her hands.

In one sharp movement, you slam the crutch into her jaw, not caring as her teeth sink hard enough into your lip to split as she stumbles away.

As soon as she is an arms distance away you swing again, but she sees it coming and grabs it mid-strike.

“Naughty naughty.” She hums, pushing the crutch back at you until you fall in the snow. 

“See this is why killing your clone just wasn’t as satisfying,” she smiles as she crouches down watching you try to find purchase in the snow to scramble away. Her face is inches away as she licks your blood off her teeth “No one quite fights like you.” 

Then her hands are in your hair, dragging you back into the tardis, kicking and screaming into the winter air.


End file.
